Harry Potter and the Gift of Legilimency
by Anyssia
Summary: Harry has a very unusual gift: he is a natural Legilimens. Unsurprisingly, the ability to read and manipulate the thoughts of his relatives -and others- led to him having a very different childhood and very different personality... Another take on the first book/year. GRAY!Harry, POLITICS, Conservatives (Pure/Half-Blood) vs Liberals (Dumbledore)
1. Of School Supplies and Wands

REPOST!

**Apparently, FFnet has decided that my most recent fanfiction, 'Harry Potter and the Gift of Legilimency', violates the rule of : _"Not the property of uploading writer. Please note we do not allow users to post lyrics to songs they did not write." _So they removed **(on December 2nd, 2013)** the only chapter I had published**** at the time **(November 30th, 2013)******. **

Well, seeing as I did not write a Song Fic (I abhor song fics!), I'm not sure what is their problem. Especially as the only property I violated is that of J.K. Rowling, just like 600'000+ other fanfictions.

Anyway... I'm going to try and get things straight with FFnet, but I know they're kind of stubborn about things like that _(read: rarely reply to complaints)_, so don't hold your breath. In the mean time, I'm reposting my story here _(on December 3rd, 2013)_, after making a few corrections.

_**By the way, in case it happens again, you can also find me at Archive of Our Own, under the same pseudo (link on my profile)**_

_EDIT: as of December 7th, 2013, FFnet has apparently decided that my fic now follows the guidelines, as they haven't taken it down again. Let's hope that it will keep that way :) *crosses fingers*_

* * *

_Hi! This is a plot idea that's been bugging me for a while now. Well, actually it's several plot-bunnies combined in one. I started it while participating to Nanowrimo 2013, when I was stuck with my other novel and the idea has expanded until we got this._

_I'll warn you though, it's not beta-read!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Harry barely remembers the first time it had happened. He'd been young, probably no more than four or five. Originally, the Dursleys had merely ignored him, which was quite a feat in itself, as it's not so easy to ignore a needy baby. Evidently, by the time he had reached five years old, the Dursleys apparently determined that he should be of use. And also, that he was a freak.

After being ignored for so long, Harry had almost welcomed the attention. However, it hadn't taken long for his 'family' to realize that the freak was a perfect scapegoat. Everything from the fact that Dudley still wouldn't relinquish his nappies to any work related trouble of Vernon had been blamed on Harry.

As it had only been words, at first, the boy had merely hidden away in his little refuge in his Cupboard. But, when it had escalated to physical violence, little Harry had discovered that he was quite special, indeed...

##

The parchment in his hand is thick and smooth, obviously of very good quality. It's addressed to _'Mr. H. Potter, The Third Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey'_. Harry frowns at first, then shrugs. The mailing address is a bit weird, but then, he's learned a long time ago, from the glimpses in his aunt's head, that wizards are all more or less a bit crazy.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry sits back in his seat at the table, after giving his uncle the rest of the mail. "My Hogwarts letter is here, we'll need to go to Diagon Alley soon."

"Oh, is it already the time?"

Petunia's voice is distracted, but then, Harry's repeated visits in her mind have rendered her quite absent-minded, with the time. Sometimes, she doesn't seem to be all there. Not that Harry particularly cares. He still remembers the short time she delighted in hitting him on the head with her frying pan. Harry's sort of vindictive, really.

"Yes. We'll send our answer from Diagon Alley by owl." Harry swallows the last of his breakfast, starting to feel excited despite his usual indifference. "You remember what we talked about for your reply, right?"

"I am to tell them that, of course, you'll go to Hogwarts, and I'll take care of buying your supplies since I remember where we went with Lily."

"Good."

Without another word, Harry leaves the table with his letter tucked in his back pocket and goes up to his room. Originally, the house had four bedroom. The Master bedroom for the Dursleys, another large one for Dudley and two smallest ones that were used as guest room and storeroom respectively. They were now combined in one other large room for Harry.

Obviously, Harry hadn't 'deserved' his own room for his first years at Privet Drive. He hadn't minded the Cupboard, really, but when he had turned five and had caught onto the fact that, somehow, he could control his relatives -and other people as well- by planting suggestions in their minds, it had changed a lot of things in the house.

His first commands has been to stop brutalizing him, evidently. Well, command's a big word. All he has done at the time, is scream his anguish in his mind while starring at his aunt. Surprisingly, Harry has felt something weird happen at that moment and the next thing he knew, the woman was putting down her weapon and going back to putter in the kitchen.

Trial and error have soon taught him that he is able to push his way in people's heads, figuratively, and give them suggestions that works quite well, as well as 'see' their own thoughts. Some people resist more strongly than others, but overall, Harry hasn't encountered trouble when he uses his ability.

It's during one of his trips in his aunt's mind, that Harry has learned about magic and the Wizarding World.

The Third Bedroom, Harry's, is quite large, which is logical, since it was originally two different rooms. There's a good sized bed in one corner, with matching bedside table and a desk with several drawers in another corner. The rest of the room is occupied by many bookshelves and a large, very comfortable armchair. Harry loves reading and he's particularly proud of his reading corner under the window, with a small table for his tea set and a couple of warm plaids for winter.

Really, he has a good life in this house, since his ability has surfaced. He's well fed, has a nice bedroom and the Dursleys always buy him what he wants. Though he's quickly understood that, while they didn't hurt for money, they weren't exactly rich either. A couple of 'suggestions' to Dudley had quickly curbed is need for more and more gifts, until the boy became happy with just a few. That way, Harry doesn't have to worry as much about bankrupting his relatives, when he asks for all those books he loves and to be taken to various museums several times a year.

##

They've already visited Diagon Alley several times. Petunia doesn't know much about the Wizarding World, beyond the fact that she hates them and is jealous of them in equal measure. Evidently, Harry's immediate reaction at learning that he's a wizard, was to be taken to a book shop. So they went.

Their first visit to the shopping alley had been a bit weird. For some reason, Petunia can't see the point of entry and they had to rely on Harry's observations and her shaky descriptions to find the gateway. The Leaky Cauldron was a strange name, but the witch on the store sign was a dead giveaway, at least.

The important thing is that Harry got his books -many of them, he has two separate bookshelves just for the Wizarding books- and he learned that he's kind of famous. A dab of Petunia's skin cream made short work of his distinctive scar and Harry's been letting his hair grow, since he realized how much he looks like his father with his hair going every which way. It's not much of a disguise, but since people usually aren't looking for him precisely, it works well enough. He even made a point of hiding his scar all the time. It's an habit these days and Harry doesn't even think about it anymore.

The strange mind-reading/mind-manipulating he can do turned out to work on wizards too. However, Harry quickly realized that wizards actually have natural -though very limited- mind protections. Mostly, it's just a thin barrier that makes it so that Harry has to deliberately try to get in their minds. With muggles, he doesn't even need to try. Their minds are literally open books, just looking in their eyes, he can see at the very least their surface thoughts. It's a relief to be among wizards. It's much quieter.

There's a downside to wizard's natural mind barrier though. While most of them never even realize that they aren't alone in their heads, some of them became very suspicious quickly and a few actually even tried to push Harry away. Going by their reactions, Harry thinks that it might be an actual skill, like his, but probably a learned one. Their actions don't feel a smooth and instinctive as his. Also, some were quite panicked when they didn't immediately managed to push Harry away. He can only theorize that his own natural skill is stronger and harder to defeat. And probably, to detect too. Of course, the fact that he's a kid helps too. People -those who fought back- never discovered him, because they're looking for another adult assailant. Definitively not a kid not even old enough to go to Hogwarts.

Over the years, Harry has managed to find a few books that might have been mentioning his skill. None of them are really detailed and he thinks that his skill -Legilimency, apparently- might be really illegal. Which is logical, seeing as he can swift through people's thoughts and memories -and most of them don't even know it- as well as planting ideas and suggestions/orders in their mind. The books say that it takes years or even decades to master this skill which is why Harry thinks that he's a natural and this isn't some inherited ability. It's really too easy for him.

##

Thankfully, Petunia doesn't have anything scheduled for the day, so they immediately head for London. Their first stop is Gringotts, since Harry understand that paying for Magical supplies might be a bit of a stretch for the household's budget. It doesn't take them much time, since the Alley hasn't been flooded with families yet and they already have Harry's key. He just fills his secured Gringotts pouch and they're on their way.

Harry doesn't remember his parents. He's seen a few memories in Petunia's mind, but they are tainted with her bitterness and he doesn't like viewing them. Turned out that the Potters were an old family, like the Malfoys and the Longbottoms, and such. The book store's political shelves had a bit to say about them. Especially with Harry's own strange fame. Petunia merely had to ask a few questions to the clerk and they had left with enough reading for Harry to be busy for months. Not that he understood most of it at the time, since he was so young. However, a few 'suggestions' to Vernon had ensured that the man would read those books and explain to Harry the situation. Harry thinks that his repeated trips through adults minds might have forced his own to grow up faster too, because, as many people have remarked, he's very mature for his age. Well, it doesn't matter much, apart from the fact that it helped him make plans for his future, beyond wondering when he would get another sweet or toy.

Once they had read those books, it hadn't been difficult to infer that such an old family must have had savings. A trip to Gringotts later, Petunia and Harry had proven with a bit of blood that they were related to Lily and James Potter and the old vault keys had been nullified and new ones issued for Harry under the care of his guardian, Petunia Dursley. The goblins had been quick to disabuse Harry of any idea that he might be uber rich or some idiocy like that. The war had taken a toll on many families, the Potters included. There was enough left to take care of Harry's years in school, with probably enough to see him through a few more years afterward, if he was prudent with his money, but that was it.

##

"Now, the trunk store," Harry says, once they're out of Gringotts.

Petunia doesn't reply, but then she never does unless she's been asked a direct question. Harry certainly doesn't mind. He remembers her shrill, venom filled voice from when he was a toddler.

The clerk doesn't particularly pay attention to them. They're both clothed like muggles, which Harry has already caught on, wasn't exactly appreciated around here. He can certainly understand, he'd be happy to get rid of the muggles too, if it meant that he could be a wizard openly, without needing to use subterfuges, just to go shopping.

"I need a trunk for Hogwarts, sir." Harry shakes his head when the clerk points at the standard trunk. It will be his only splurging, but with the number of books he reads, it will be more than necessary. "I'd like one with several compartments for shelves, please."

"Ah, Ravenclaw, are you now?" The man nods to himself and stirs Harry to another part of the shop. "Most Ravenclaws buy either this one," he points to a classic looking brown trunk, "or if they have a bit more money, this one." The second is a bit more elaborated, with a mat black finish.

"What are the differences?"

"Well, first, compartments. The first one only has two extra bookshelves, in addition to the usual compartments needed for the school. You know, one for clothes, one for shoes, one for potion supplies, ..." The man makes a vague gesture. "The other one has five bookshelves, so it's easier to organize your books by subjects."

Harry already knows which one he wants, before the man is done explaining.

"The rest of the differences are in the appearance -which is a superficial matter- and more importantly, the second one has more protections, mostly against theft and fire."

A quick glance at Petunia -read, a quick nudge in her mind- has her finally opening her mouth, before the clerk became suspicious. "We'll take the second one, please."

The man looks almost ready to argue -he's probably wondering if the _muggle_ has the necessary money, but Petunia takes out Harry's Gringotts pouch and the transaction is quickly done.

Next, Harry decides, are robes. They buy the needed wardrobe for school as well as a plain witch wizarding dress for Petunia. Harry doesn't like to be stared at. Before, it hadn't mattered much, since they only came to Diagon Alley for books, but soon enough, people will be looking for 'Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived' -Harry hates this moniker with a passion!- and they will have more chances to pass incognito if they dress like others.

The difference between the clerks' reactions at serving an obvious muggle and now people wearing wizarding clothes is extraordinary. No more stares, no more sneers, other than those who scoffs at Petunia's plain, cheap robes.

Soon enough, they have everything, bar Harry's wand. He's been putting it off for some reason, until there was only this errand left. He's not sure why, or maybe he knows. After all, choosing the wand is the ultimate proof that he's a wizard. If no wands react to him...

Ollivander's shop is creepy. It's the first thing that comes to his mind. Ollivander himself is even creepier, is the second.

Harry can feel the slight pressure of the man's mind somewhere in the shelves on his right and it's a warning. Usually, witches and wizards' minds are naturally shielded. It's a very thin barrier, but it's here, even if it doesn't stop Harry to get in. However, Harry has learned by trial and error that some could detect and/or push him away. Some of those trained Occlumenses exude some kind of air pressure around themselves which serves as a warning for wanna-be Legilimenses. It also warns Harry to concentrate on his own Occlumency. He doesn't know much about this particular ability, but from the descriptions he's read in books, he has come to the conclusion that, just as he is a natural in Legilimency, he has the natural ability to protect his own mind with Occlumency. It's harder to detect for him, as Occlumency -in his case anyway- is mostly a passive skill.

"Ah, Mr. Potter."

Ollivander hesitates a second, losing track of what he was about to say, before addressing Petunia. Harry glares a him, perfectly aware that the old man tried to use his Legilimency on Harry. "And you must be Mr. Potter's guardian, then?"

"Yes."

Ollivander startles, taken aback by Petunia's short answer. He shakes it off visibly, then turns back toward Harry. "You have your mother's eyes, I remember her..." He shifts, as Harry continues to stare silently at him. "Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy and made of willow. Nice wand for charm work, that it was. You father's was mahogany, excellent for transfiguration."

Ollivander appears a bit weary of Harry, staying carefuly behind his counter, and yet, he still peers at Harry's forehead. He frowns, not finding the scar that he was anticipating. "And that's where... I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that hurt you all those years ago," he says softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand -very powerful- and in the wrong hands... Well, I wonder what I'd have done, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

The old man shakes his head and trails off under Harry's harsh glare.

To be honest, Harry doesn't care about what the Dark Lord did. It's a done deal and nothing will bring his parents back. Not that it matters much. Harry's life has drastically improved since he found out how to control the Dursleys -and others-. Now, he just want to live his life quietly. And maybe to take advantage of those stupid sheep who revere his name. If he plays his cards right, there are so many people who would be ecstatic to 'help' the Boy-Who-Lived.

Ollivander glances at Petunia, but doesn't speak to her. "Well, now... Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulls a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Harry looks at him a bit suspiciously. He doesn't like much the old man. "I'm right-handed," he answers eventually.

What follows is a whirlwind of wizarding nonsense. Harry has already experienced some of those bizarre things that wizards will do that seem perfectly normal for them, so he isn't too surprised. He gets measured every which ways, from his arm's length to his nose and other disconcerting places.

Meanwhile, Ollivander has wander back in the shop, taking down some boxes from the filled shelves. "Here, Mr. Potter, try this one," he says, handing Harry a cream colored wand.

Nothing happens and the man quickly snatches it from Harry's fingers. "Ah, a tricky customer. It's been a long time since..."

Wands after wands and it's been over an hour since Harry wandered in this shop and he still hasn't found his wand. The only thing that stops him from panicking is the fact that some of these wands did react to him. Just not strong enough.

"I wonder, now... Yes, why not. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Ollivander hands over a beautiful dark wand, with a slight reddish finish.

Harry takes the wand, feeling a bit nervous at Ollivander's obvious trepidation, but nothing much happens. It does feel warm in his hand and a few gold sparks shots from it, but he has had better connections with some of the others he tried earlier.

"Well, really! I would have thought..."

"You would have thought what exactly?" Harry asks curtly, annoyed by the man's behavior.

Ollivander fixes Harry with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter," the man declares with a strange intensity. "Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in this wand, also gave another feather. Just one other. I thought for a moment that, since you are obviously a powerful and tricky customer, maybe you would be destined for this wand when its brother... Why, its brother gave you that scar that you should have on your forehead."

Harry quirks an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew."

"I don't care about Voldemort's wand." Harry cuts him off. "I don't see why I should have a wand connected to his, since he's been dead for over a decade. I just want my own wand. Let's forget about what people expects of me and focus on what _I_ want to do."

Well, this little outburst of his certainly hadn't been planed. However, Harry doesn't shuffle off in shame. He raises his head and stares at Ollivander right in the eye.

"I expect that you are right, Mr. Potter."

Ollivander looks him up from head to toes again. Harry can almost feel the man's attention shifting back to his customer instead of looking back on a dead war criminal.

It's another hour until Harry finally gets a true reaction from a wand that Ollivander hands him. It vibrates in his hand and Harry can almost feel the magic in his body sings in tune with the block of wood. Silver and purple sparks shot from the wand as if the tool was rejoicing with him.

"Ah, finally! Very good, Mr. Potter, very good. Alder wood and dragon heartstring. Thirteen and three quarters inches. Unusual combination. Dragon heartstring are associated to powerful and temperamental magic, while the alder wood is linked to water and with it, the mind and the spiritual." Ollivander looks at Harry carefully. "Actually, it's not so surprising. After all, you _are_ a natural Occlumens."

Harry's too happy to comment on Ollivander's words. He merely nods and Petunia pays the man off.

He feels exhausted suddenly and thanks whoever that they're done with Harry's school shopping. A moment later, Harry and Petunia are lifting Harry's trunk and settling it on the car's backseat. Harry has the fleeting thought that the Feather-Light charm and wheels were definitively worth their price, as Petunia drove them back to Privet Drive.

* * *

_Side note, about the wand: POTENTIAL SPOILER! _

_I hesitated to change Harry's wand. But really, since he won't be pursuing and fighting Voldemort, there's no reason to give him the Holly wand. After all, the Holly wand is good for protection, while this Harry doesn't care to fight, but merely to live his own life. Since he won't be defying the Dark Lord, why would he need a brother wand?_


	2. Of Trains and Castles

_Here's to hoping that FFnet won't remove my story a second time!_

_Still no beta-reading, but I hope you'll enjoy this story anyway :)_

* * *

The rest of the summer passes both too quickly and too slowly. Harry, as usual, spends it with his nose deep in books.

The trouble with being a Legilimens is that Harry tends to read the surface thoughts of muggles automatically. He can't really stop it, since they have no protection around their own minds and almost shout their thoughts to those who know how to hear them. People -muggles or wizards- aren't exactly nice, most of the time. They are selfish, petty and spiteful. They smile and nod and inside, they insult and mock.

Harry learned a long time ago that people weren't to be trusted, even children. He has seen and 'read' more minds that he can count. He knows that people's first reaction is to calculate how he can be of use for them. From Vernon's associates to Petunia's tea party friends, all of them have looked at him and thought something of that effect at one point. Well, that, and one of Vernon's coworker thought that he was mighty appetizing, too. Harry has made a point of staying clear of the house, when that man was invited.

Books, on the other hand, are safe. They present information and sometimes, they try to twist people's point of view, but they aren't dangerous. They don't imagine Harry in disgusting positions, or think about how they can use him to improve their own standing, or how they can use Harry to discredit the Dursleys. There is none of that, in the world of books. Harry can learn from books without the fear of losing himself in the nauseating minds around him.

##

Wizarding books are a bit different from ordinary books.

It feels to Harry as if he's using an ancient manuscript, with beautiful etchings on thick, pale yellow parchment. Those books are the reason why he love his personal library. He feels like a king among those shelves of heavy, bound books. They have so much more 'personality' than those muggles books published by hundreds on thin recycled paper. Some wizarding books are even so infused with magic that he can feel it radiate when he holds them.

Since he first entered Diagon Alley, Harry has read dozens of wizarding books. However, those were books about legends, fictional books, historical books,... He hasn't wanted to buy school books in advance as it would have merely gotten him bored later in Hogwarts. But now...

Now, Harry wakes up early in the morning, hurries to get done with his daily chores, and jumps back in his reading armchair, a textbook spread over his knees and a cup of chocolate cooling down on the side table. He's been pretty much bouncing on the spot, between reading sessions, excited against his better judgment. He managed to read each textbook at least once and resisted -with great difficulties- the craving of using his wand to try out a few spells.

##

Today, however, he's done waiting. Vernon hauls his trunk in the car while Harry jumps in the seat, seat-belt fastened before his uncle can even sit behind the wheel.

The train for Hogwarts leaves from King's Cross station, but Harry has gathered from Vernon's mind that navigating King's Cross is usually madness incarnated on a good day, so on the first of September, as children all leave for their schools... Harry doesn't feel like braving the unshielded minds of dozens of muggles -he hates crowds-, so they found an alternative.

The drive to Diagon Alley feels like an eternity to Harry. It takes barely two hours to get to London from Little Whinging, but it feels like days. He never thought that he'd get so excited at the idea of going to Hogwarts, but here he is, vibrating in his seat and imagining what's going to happen, thinking about all that he read in those textbooks.

##

The Leaky Cauldron is almost empty at this time of the day. The train doesn't leave before eleven, but Harry came early -really early, to be honest-, in case the pub's floo wasn't connected to the Platform 9 and 3/4 at King's Cross.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The barman looks down at Harry, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Hey, kid. Where are your parents?"

"At work, sir. But they said I should use the pub's floo to get to the train for Hogwarts."

"Yes, of course." The man stares at Harry a few seconds, looking from his eyes to his forehead. Thankfully, Harry's taken the habit of hiding his scar with some of Petunia's skin cream a long time ago. "This way. The floo is five sickles, just put them in the jar next to the chimney and you'll be served a measure of floo powder."

"Thank you, sir."

Harry doesn't dawdle, in case the man asks for his name. He's not interested in making a spectacle of himself.

##

Floo travel, Harry decides, as he is spat on the platform, falling head over heels, is worse than roller coasters. He stays on his knees a few seconds, trying desperately to keep his stomach where it's supposed to be and thanks Merlin that he didn't buy a familiar to take with him to the school. At the time, he hadn't seen the point; he had no one to send letters to and he wasn't sure that he would even remember to feet an animal.

"First time traveling by floo, I guess?"

Harry nods at the old man manning the entry point and dusts off his trousers, as the man rights up his trunk. "Yes, I read about it, but I wasn't aware that it was so... forceful."

"Don't worry kid, you'll get the trick eventually. You just need to use it a few more time and soon you'll manage to fall on your feet."

Of course, Harry's spectacular entrance has caught the attention of the few families already waiting for the train's departure. Harry raises his head high, trying desperately not to blush, and leaves the floo arrival point.

"Would you be... You look a lot like a man I met during my old school days," a man of Indian descent says delicately. "His name was James Potter."

He would sigh if it were of any help, but Harry knew that people would recognize him at one point, especially now that he is expected at the platform, back in the wizarding world for the first time -that people know of, anyway-.

"Yes, I am Harry Potter."

One of the twins standing next to the Indian couple squeals high enough that Harry winces. The man -probably her father- gives her a harsh glare that quiets her immediately. "Pardon my daughter's reaction, Mr. Potter, but people have been awaiting your return for a long time."

"So I gathered."

The man seems a bit disconcerted by Harry's curt answers. "I am Sunil Patil and this is my wife, Priyanka, and my daughters, Parvati and Padma."

The Patils are one of the up-and-coming Pure-Blood families, Harry remembers, so he makes sure to answer with the appropriate amount of respect. Especially as other families are watching the scene, one of which the very powerful and rich Malfoys, if their hair color is to be trusted.

"I am honored. While I have tried to further my magical education as much as possible, I do live with muggles, so I apologize if my greetings aren't up to par."

The Patil patriarch arches an eyebrow and nods regally. "It's quite alright, Mr. Potter. As it is, it has quickly been made clear that you weren't being cared for by a wizarding family, as nobody seemed to know where you were. Obviously, we cannot hold against you any misunderstanding or missing knowledge of our culture that you could have."

Well, Harry hadn't been expecting this. He hesitates, not knowing how to answer. "Er... Thank you, Lord Patil. I promise you that I'll do my best to catch up what I missed."

"I expect you will. After all, you _are_ the last descendant of the Ancient House of Potter. You do know that you'll receive the title of Lord Potter upon your majority?"

"Yes, I do," Harry answers very seriously. It's something he found out in one of those wizarding political books that Vernon read and summarized for him. It's one of the reasons why he is so determined to study as much as he can during his time at Hogwarts. He hates being looked down upon. Harry will make sure that the name of Potter once again means something, in a few years.

"Very good. Well, I'll let you get to the train, then. Maybe you and my daughters could help each others with your trunks?"

Harry barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes at the blatant attempt at matchmaking. "Of course, Lord Patil, I would be honored."

Thankfully, nobody else accosts him as he helps the twins get their trunks in the train. He ignores the girls, letting their babbling wash over him, as they find an empty compartment. A few minutes later, all their trunks are secured and Harry settles himself on the comfortable seat with his current book.

"Oh, the 'Fairies of the Loch' series! I love those books," one of the twins -Harry can't say which is which- gushes at him, trying to read over his shoulder.

"Yes, I like this tale as well," he answers curtly, sliding down the seat to squeeze his back against the window.

The girls apparently get the message, as they both sit on the opposite seat and start talking together with hush voices.

##

Harry's completely engrossed in his novel, when the train finally starts moving. He raises his head to look at the platform, and startles as he discovers that at some point, another girl entered the compartment and seated herself next to him.

"Oh, hello. Pardon me, I hadn't meant to ignore you. I tend to lose track of the real world, when reading," he explains politely.

The girl is probably a First year, as she doesn't look much older than Harry. She has bushy brown hair and large teeth that attract attention on her unfortunate smile.

"It's okay, I understand. I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger," she declares, holding her hand toward Harry.

He stares at her hand for a second, not sure how he should react. But he's in the wizarding world now and it's high time that he started integrating in the culture. "You probably don't know that, but people usually don't shakes hands in the wizarding world, especially not witches and wizards. Most of the time, depending on how important the other is, they simply nod or bow to each others, or if they're family or really close friends, they embrace. Only wizards and wizards shakes hands, and it's mostly to state an alliance or conclude a business," he explains. "But it is nice to meet you, Hermione," he adds, hoping that she wouldn't take the rebuke badly. "I'm Harry Potter."

The muggle-born looks peeved for a moment, before bouncing on her seat as he reveals his name. "Harry Potter! Oh, I know all about you, of course," she almost shrieks. "I got a few extra books for background reading; and you're in 'Modern Magical History', 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century'," she recites so fast that he can barely understand her words.

Harry stares at her, stunned by her declaration. "I can assure you that you don't know the first thing about me," he retorts, maybe a bit too harshly. "Those books are full of lies and slander as I haven't given even one interview in my life. I will thank you to rid yourself of the ludicrous idea that you know anything about me."

The silence that follows Harry's testy retort is frosty and heavy. The Patil girls are looking down and out of the window, desperate to not be brought into the argument. The muggle-born girl, however, first gawks at Harry, then, as he is starting to think she might bursts into tears, her face grows dark, lips pinched and stormy eyed.

"How dare you insult those books! They are renowned and acclaimed in many literary circles!"

"Well, I don't care who thinks what, about those books. I'm merely telling you that the articles they wrote about me, are full of false information."

Again, she visibly waver between two emotions, but her pride seems to win. She jumps on her feet, staring down at Harry with her chin raised high, arms crossed. "I won't stay here a minute more. It's disgraceful that you would say such things about publications of such repute. Good day, Mr. Potter!"

She strides out of the compartment, almost slamming the sliding door behind herself.

The three remaining First years goggle at the door for a long moment, before exchanging incredulous glances.

"I can't believe this. The nerve of that girl?"

"Well, I don't know in which House she's going to be sorted, but I sure hope she won't be in mine," the second twin adds heatedly.

Harry can't help but agree. "She probably will go to Gryffindor. She's a bit too competitive, I think, and obstinate, to make a good Ravenclaw," he muses.

"Oh, that's okay for me, then. Mother always says that I'll make a very good Ravenclaw," the girl on the left says.

"Damn, I don't think I'm Ravenclaw material. I'd go nuts with all those study maniacs around me all the time." Her sister shrugs, even though she does look a bit put out at the thought.

"We'll probably be in the same classes then," Harry tells the first girl. "I'm pretty sure that I'll be in Ravenclaw too."

"That's really nice! I'm Padma, by the way. I know people can't really differentiate us."

"Then lets hope that you really are sorted in different Houses," he says with a playful smile. "That way we'll be able to tell who's who thanks to your House crests."

They end up talking a few more minutes, until a knock catches their attention again.

"Hello dears, anything off the cart?"

A few minutes later, the new friends are back in their seats, munching quietly on chocolate, or in Harry's case, a Licorice Wand, when the door slides open once more.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost his."

The muggle-born from earlier, Hermione, is back and Harry simply looks at her a moment, before answering. "No, we didn't." He glances at the other girls afterward, feeling a bit embarrassed for having answered in their stead, but they shake their heads too.

"Stop bothering every one, girl," a boy says out of sight in the hallway. "There are Prefects to take care of such matters."

The girl huffs, but doesn't answer. She darts off toward the beginning of the train, trailing behind herself a pudgy boy that Harry hadn't seen. Probably said Neville.

"Barely aware of the wizarding world for a few months, and already she thinks she knows everything."

A pale, very blond boy steps forward in the compartment's entrance. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And this is Goyle and the other one is Crabbe," he adds, nodding toward two large boys behind him. Probably his future bodyguards, Harry thinks.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Harry Potter." He's not even at Hogwarts yet and Harry's already tired of introducing himself.

"Yes, I saw you on the platform." Draco stares at him for a moment, a sly smile on his lips. "Well, I expect that we'll see more of each others at school," he declares, holding out his hand to shake Harry's.

Harry's not stupid and he did make a point of reading up on wizarding customs. After all, as Lord Patil pointed out a couple of hours earlier, Harry _is_ expected to learn about all this, as he will have a title of his own in a few years, even if the House of Potter lost a lot of standing following his parents' death.

Shaking Malfoy's hand now was as good as announcing to everyone that he would lean toward the Conservative side of the wizarding politics. People would be shocked, as his father had turned the House of Potter from Conservative to Liberal early in his tenure as Lord Potter. Harry was certainly expected to carry on James Potter's decision, especially as the loudest voice of the Conservatives -Voldemort- had murdered Harry's parents, after going mad at some point in the seventies.

However, Harry has suffered enough because of the leader of the Liberal party -Dumbledore- who dropped him with muggles, instead of letting a wizarding family adopt him. Harry has gained an intense dislike of muggles through the actions of his relatives and the peaks he sneaked into various muggle minds.

Which is why Harry does shake Malfoy's hand a second later. "Yes, I do expect that we'll meet again, at some point. Though I'll probably spend most of my time in the Library."

Draco huffs. "Ravenclaw, uh."

"Quite."

"Very well. At least, it's not Hufflepuff," the blond says with a slight sneer. "You should put your robes on, anyway. We should be near now."

Harry glances outside and raises an eyebrow. He must have read for longer that he had thought, as it's almost dark.

"Alright, thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome." Draco nods at them, before leaving quietly. The other two boys follow silently behind.

"I'll stand in the hallway while you change," Harry tells the girls, gathering his book. "We'll exchange place when you're done."

"Sure," they answer together, smiling at each others afterward.

##

Harry doesn't feel too confident at leaving his luggage behind, but the voice which announced the train's arrival was very clear about that.

"Firs' years!" A voice booms overhead. "This way, Firs' years, follow me!"

The largest man Harry has ever seen, gestures at the children, holding a lamp high in the air. He has to have some sort of creature's blood in his ancestry, Harry realizes, because nobody's that tall otherwise. The man is almost twice as tall as some of the older students.

The walk down to the lake, is treacherous and actually pretty dangerous, for a bunch of children in the dark, Harry thinks. They make it down to the lake in one piece, however, with a short stop after a bend, from where they can see the castle for the first time. Harry has to admit that it is magnificent, this majestic building perched atop a high mountain on the other side of the lake, with many towers and windows sparkling against the starry night sky. It's a bit of a scramble to get in the boats, but Harry ends with the Patil girls again, as well as a black boy whose name he doesn't know. After a short, silent trip, they reach the other side of the lake. All the children are quiet now, both mesmerized by the view of the great, mysterious castle ahead, and probably nervous, now that they're getting there.

The climb up to the castle isn't too interesting, Harry decides, despite the fact that they have to concentrate on their steps again, as the stairs aren't exactly safe in the darkness. The giant man knocks a few times on the huge castle door. It swings open at once, revealing a tall, black-haired, stern-looking witch standing there.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she's saying and Harry realizes that he must have missed half of the conversation.

She pulls the door wide open, ushering the children forward. The entrance hall in which they stand now is huge. Probably big enough to fit a whole house. Harry's a bit intimidated by this. If a hall is this big, the castle must be one heck of a maze, he muses.

The witch leads them to an empty chamber in which the children crowds, standing close together. Harry guesses that he isn't the only one intimidated by this place.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."


	3. Of Sortings and Gawkers

_First, kudos to those who left me a review on the previous chapters, thank you very much! :) I love reading your opinions and if you go back, you'll see that I took your advice some times and modified some things. (You don't have to re-read the previous chapters: I modified phrasings and made some corrections here and there, nothing truly important to the story)._

_Also, important point: this chapter still isn't beta-read. I did my best to check it out, but I'm tired and pretty sure that I missed some mistakes. I wouldn't mind you pointing them out in your reviews ;) _

_Second, a quick explanation: I mustn't have been clear enough about the 'greeting system'. Some people were confused about the fact that Harry did shake Draco's hand when he wouldn't take Hermione's: what I meant is that witches (females) and wizards (males) don't shake hands, it's just not done. In the case of two wizards (males), if they do shake hands, it's a political move, it marks them as allies or at least of the same opinion/sharing the same point of view on some things. Otherwise, they bow or half-bow or simply nod to each others. (I rewrote that paragraph, hopefully it will be clearer now :) )_

_And lastly, Ron. It's not something people asked about, but I though I might write something about it anyway. I didn't mention him because by the time he arrived at the train, Hermione would have already been sitting in the compartment and I doubt that Ron would have chosen to sit with three girls and a bookworm. Harry wouldn't even have seen him open the compartment's door, as he didn't even notice Hermione sit next to him! ;)_

_Some things will be dealt with in the same way: either Harry just won't know about it (the theft at Gringotts for example) or he won't overhear it or however it happened in the book. The events are mostly the same as for JKR's timeline, but if Harry didn't hear about it, I won't be talking about it :D_

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"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall says. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first, you will be sorted into your Houses," she explains, staring at the children one after the other. "The Sorting is a very important ceremony..."

Harry listens with one ear the rest of the explanation as, like the other wizard-born children, he already knows all this. Who wouldn't know about the Houses and the Founders and the rest of the school's background? It's such an important part of Britain's history.

It's easy to know which children are wizard-raised, Harry decides. Those look half-bored like him, more interested in discussing what they're seeing with their friends than listening to Professor McGonagall speak about things they've been hearing since they first displayed their own magic. Though, some looks as lost as muggle-borns. There is a red-head in the group that Harry would swear is a Weasley -they are well known for being broke and it shows- and he looks just as clueless as the muggle-raised. That's disgracing, Harry decides. It just shows that the boy has no interests in learning and looking for information by himself, if nobody is here to spoon-fed it to him. Harry abhors those of that sort.

Draco rolls his eyes at Harry just as McGonagall's done with her speech. "... return when we are ready for you, please wait quietly."

Harry rolls his eyes back. He moves through the group, standing closer to Draco so they can talk. "I hope this won't take too long, I don't really feel like being gawked at for hours by the whole school. I just know that they'll be staring."

"The mud... muggle-borns," Draco stammers under Harry's glare, "at least will be gaping at you, but that can't be helped. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins should know better, though."

"Yeah. In the meantime, I've got to..."

_'...fight a troll'_, someone gasps loudly in the group of children to their left, but ghosts crosses the room suddenly, startling everybody before they can comment on that stupidity.

"It's the first time I see a true ghost," Harry murmurs at Draco. Maybe he shouldn't, but it's not a secret that he was muggle-raised. He doesn't want to hid it; it would just attract unwanted attention and make it seem as if he had a skeleton buried in a closet somewhere.

"There's one in Malfoy manor, but we rarely see him," Draco whispers back, staring at one particular ghost with a rather spooked expression. Harry can't fault him. This particular ghost is scary enough, with large suspicious stains on his silver-ish clothes.

"New students!" One of the ghosts exclaims.

Well, obviously. Will people never stop commenting on the obvious? Harry sighs to himself.

McGonagall strides in the room, scattering both the new students and ghosts. Harry walks in line with the other, as they are lead in the Great Hall.

##

Oddly enough -or maybe not, after all, despite how mature he is for his age, he's still only eleven-, Harry finds himself a bit scared, standing in the middle of the huge room, with so many people seated around him.

The room is magnificent, as the rest of the castle. The night sky shines overhead, enhanced by an extraordinary piece of spell-work. Harry read about it in his 'Hogwarts: A History' volume, but seeing it is... He stands next to the other children, in awe just as they are, eyes darting here and there, trying to take everything in. Draco isn't any better, his boisterous personality cowed by the majestic atmosphere.

Floating candles, golden silverware, people wearing traditional wizarding dresses everywhere. The trip in the train had been interesting enough, but here, just like in Diagon Alley, Harry feels like he has stepped in a new world, his world.

Professor McGonagall comes back, carrying a short stool in one hand and a wizard's hat in a sorry state in the other. Harry's watching a piece of history -a sentient piece of history, even- and he can't help but stare silently, dazzled and intimidated. Thankfully, everyone is staring at the hat as well, so nobody pays him any attention.

The Professor puts the hat on the stool and it shivers, straightening itself. A rip opens near the brim so that it seems to have a mouth.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see..._ "

Harry stares, incredulous, as the hat declaims a whole song as if it were a poem. People burst into applause as it finishes, filling the room with sound after the silence that welcomed the hat's song.

The children are whispering to each others around him, most of them looking relieved, now that they know that they aren't expected to perform a spell or something of that effect to find their Houses. McGonagall steps forward with a thick scroll in her hand and Draco sighs.

"Well, it's going to be a while until she gets to the 'M's," he mutters.

"Don't complain, 'P's are even farther and there will be less people to hide behind, when they all starts to stare at me, eventually," Harry grumbles back.

Draco snickers but shuts up quickly, as McGonagalls starts talking again.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and put the hat on, and it will announce your House."

Harry sighs as a girl is called, preparing himself for a long wait.

##

He doesn't talk with Draco much more, as Harry isn't too keen on making himself singled out so quickly. Draco has other friends anyway and Harry doesn't feel like making the effort to get to know them. He's never been accused of being too social, that's a fact.

Instead, Harry watches. He can feel the static pressure of Occlumens adepts around him, warning him to be cautious on who he uses his gift on. He suspects that most of the older children from important families will know the art anyway, as they are the ones who have the most to hide. Draco already exudes a weak aura around him. Most of the teachers will probably be out of his reach as well. Or maybe, once he's more experienced with magical beings, adult wizards will be useful to practice his stealth on, he muses absently.

McGonagall has barely reached the 'G's when he concentrates again, so Harry goes back to his observations.

He starts with those closest to him. He never needed a wand to use his Legilimency, nor a word, as the books he found about the skill said were needed. However, he does need to look at people's faces. It doesn't have to be head on, a side glance will be enough, if the person doesn't actively fight him off. So Harry glances at children here and there, focusing on those who aren't using Occlumency, just practicing his stealth in entering those naturally shielded minds. He never got too many occasions to try his hand on wizards, as Petunia couldn't really justify loitering in Diagon Alley. But now, Harry has so many possibilities, it's dizzying. And the best thing is that nobody would suspect a eleven years old of sneaking into people's mind.

It will also permit him to get a feel for the current rumors and things of interest, as he doesn't trust the wizarding newspaper. The Daily Prophet is so obviously in the Ministry's pocket, Harry's almost ashamed of their lack of subtlety. But with so many kids here, a lot of them coming from several of the most important families of wizarding Britain...

"Malfoy, Draco!"

"Good luck," he whispers automatically. Draco smirks at him, before swaggering forward.

The hat has barely touched his head that it's already calling out 'Slytherin!'. Harry rolls his eyes. For a House that's supposed to be subtle... Well, he supposes that Draco's ambition was his most important quality.

Thankfully, the waiting from 'M's to 'P's is much shorter. Harry barely has the time to brace himself as McGonagall calls "Potter, Harry!"

Immediately, the hall falls silent. However, as Harry steps forward through the few remaining children waiting to be Sorted, whispers break all over the Hall. He tries to ignore them, just as he ignores the pointed fingers and those straightening themselves up, trying to see him better. He would sneer at their nosiness, but he knows better than to display negative emotions, especially with his fame. People are fickle and he needs to keep the general opinion about him on the neutral to good side, if he wants to get anywhere at all.

"Hmm, a natural Legilimens and Occlumens. Interesting, it's been decades since I sat on a head like yours. You do know that I need to see past your barriers, to Sort you?"

Harry huffs. "Of course. I'm not sure I'm doing it right though. It's the first time I actually tried to lower my mind defenses. You'll have to tell me if you need me to try again."

"You're doing well enough, for now. Well, plenty of ambition, but you don't have the patience to use people to achieve your goals. Loyalty in drove too, but mainly to yourself and a few select people of interest. And more importantly, an immense thirst for knowledge..."

"Slytherin would only stifle my potential, as most people would probably see me as a Death Eater in training," Harry thinks to the hat.

"Quite, quite, you are right. So it should be for you, RAVENCLAW!" It shouts the last word aloud for the hall to heard and Harry barely refrains from wincing at the volume.

The whole Gryffindor table lets out a loud disappointed groan, but a glare from McGonagall quiets them quickly enough. Harry nods his thanks to the Professor and joins his table. The Ravenclaws are obviously hesitating between keeping decorum and celebrating their perceived victory. Thankfully, they have to quell their questions as the Sorting starts again.

While it goes on, Harry looks up at the High Table. He recognizes the Headmaster Dumbledore, of course, in his large golden chair -which looks more like a throne than anything. Someone has an epic ego, he decides-. There's an empty seat next to Dumbledore which reminds Harry that McGonagall is actually the Deputy Headmistress. The other teachers don't attract Harry's attention until he gets to the end of the table. One of them, with long, greasy looking dark hair and a nose like a hook is staring at him.

Harry raises an eyebrow, surprised. The man looks a hair from sneering at him which is a bit weird as he hasn't exactly had the time to do anything to annoy him. Though... Harry looks down at the table, thinking. He seems to remember something, some half-forgotten memory, not one of his... Petunia's, of course. Harry watched her childhood memories to get a glimpse of his mother. Somewhere in there, there was a young boy with dark hair that looked remarkably like Harry's new teacher.

There's another burst of clapping, tearing Harry from his musing. He looks up just as the last kid sits down at the Slytherin table. The Headmaster is standing up and Harry makes a mental note to try and talk to the dark haired teacher about his mother. Maybe he can learn a bit about her...

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore exclaims loudly. "Before we begin our banquet," he says with a large smile, "I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry stares as the children around him cheers and claps. Is this really the most powerful man of this generation? This madman? Or maybe, this is a carefully crafted persona. There's a character in a book Harry read last year, who used such a crazy, eccentric personality, to hide his scheming from prying eyes. Maybe...

Food appears on the table, making him lose his train of thought. Harry reaches for the plates and serves himself a good portion. The snack he had in the train is a long way away. People around him are silent for now, but he braces himself. The inquisition will start any minutes now.

"So, you're Harry Potter, then?"

And so it begins.

"Yes, I am." He answers quietly. He's not sure what they are waiting for.

"Why don't you have the scar?" A Second or Third year blurts out, almost lying in the plates as he tries to get a good look at Harry's forehead.

Harry has absolutely no intention of keeping such an obvious tell that would permit people to recognize him on sight. The scar is hidden, has been for years now, and will stay hidden. "What scar?"

"The one on your forehead, the lightening bolt one!"

Harry stares at the kid, playing up his green eyes wide open, until he's afraid his contact lenses are going to pop out by themselves. "Er... What are you talking about? I don't have a scar, certainly not one of such a weird shape."

"Oh..."

It seems to do the trick. People are looking disappointed and uncertain all around him. They are Ravenclaws and in this, they are rather quick. If the scar thing is a lie, what else is? Of course, it's a double edged sword; they might study again all clues and 'truths' that have been written since that Night of October, a decade ago, but they might doubt Harry's importance too. It's a gamble, but one that Harry's willing to try. He would prefer to be recognized for his own true accomplishments, rather than for something that happened when he was one year old and barely walking.

There's a long moment of silence, then one of the older student shakes his head. "Anyway, I'm Richard, one of the Fifth year Prefect, and that's Jessica, the other Fifth year Prefect. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask us, or any of the other older students!"

"Richard's right," Jessica nods to the children. "By the way, did some of you check the textbooks?"

There's a chorus of _'yeah!'_ and Harry almost rolls his eyes, even if he adds his voice to the other's. They're Ravenclaws, of course, they checked out the books beforehand. Which reminds him... It takes a few minutes, but he finds her where he had predicted.

"Looking for someone already?"

Harry startles a bit. He hadn't realized that the girl sitting next to him was one of the Patil twins. "Padma, right?"

"Yep, and you're right, Parvati did go to Gryffindor, people will be able to distinguish us. At school, at least," she says with a giggle. "Who were you looking for?" She asks again.

"That muggle-raised girl from the train."

Padma strains up, trying to see over people's heads. "Oh, I see her, she's in Gryffindor too. Poor Parvati."

Harry hums a non-committal answer, even if he agrees. That muggle-born's going to be an handful, if she keeps her 'I know better than you because I read about it' behavior. It won't help her make friends and will probably annoys the teachers. She's the kind to get mad at the competition too, Harry hopes that they won't mix Houses in classes.

##

The conversations flows around him again, soon enough. There are too many things to comment on and to watch, for the kids to stay awkwardly silent around Harry. He participates a bit, enough to not attract attention anyway. But mostly, he amuses himself by catching snatches of views from the student's minds around him. It's easier than he would have thought and even if he hasn't been exercising for long on wizards, it feels like it's already getting easier.

There's a weird moment while he's looking at that dark haired teacher who might have known his mother, during which something strange happens. The man is talking with another teacher, one that Harry can't see as he's turned away, showing off his purple turban. Harry's watching from the corner of his eye, trying to decide if the first teacher really is that kid from Petunia's memories, when he feels something like a mental twinge. It's difficult to explain, but it feels a lot like someone is trying to use Legilimency on him. It's not that exactly. It doesn't feel quite the same way as when Ollivander tried to get into Harry's mind, but it's comparable enough that Harry automatically straightens his mind defenses. The sensation -attack?- passes and he regrets a bit reacting so quickly. He still doesn't know what exactly happened, but he's curious like a cat, now...

He turns toward the Fifth year Prefect and asks politely. "Could you name the teachers, please? I know that the one with the long white beard in the middle is the Headmaster Dumbledore, I've read about him already. And of course, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall -or should I say Professor McGonagall?-. But what of the others?"

"We uses 'Professor McGonagall' for school concerns. In order, from right to left, there is Professor Babbling for Ancient Runes, Professor Burbage for Muggle Studies, Professor Flitwick for Charms and also, our Head of House, Professor Hooch, Flying, Professor Kettleburn, COMC -which is Care of Magical Creatures-, Mrs. Pince who supervise the library, Mrs. Pomfrey, the school nurse, Professor Sinistra who teaches Astronomy, Professor Sprout who is the Hufflepuffs' Head of House and teaches Herbology, Professor Trelawney for Divination, Professor Vector for Arithmancy, Professor Quirrel for DADA -Defence Against the Dark Arts- and Professor Snape for Potions who is also the Slytherin's Head of House." The Prefect enumerates slowly. Harry frowns, trying to fix the names in his mind. The other children look a bit overwhelmed by the numerous names.

"Snape is a harsh teacher, you'll find," the prefect adds after an instant. "You'll probably hear people bash him, but there's a reason why he's so stern; Potions are one of the most dangerous subject you'll learn. One wrong ingredient in a potion could make it explode spectacularly and kill everyone in the classroom, so be very careful."

The girl next to the Prefect rolls her eyes. "Don't let him scare you. Yes, you'd better be attentive in Potions classes, it _is_ a dangerous subject. But Transfiguration could be just as dangerous. Not in the first years, but when you start learning how to change sentient beings, don't amuse yourself by changing your friend's -or enemy's- hand or something. That'd be an impressively stupid idea and Professor McGonagall will make you understand it quite quickly."

"What of the other classes?" One of the First year that Harry hadn't bothered to learn the name of, asks after a moment of uneasy silence.  
Harry sits up. That is potentially useful information, if only to know for which classes he needs to study more seriously. That bit about Potions and Transfiguration being dangerous is just common sense, he thinks with a silent sigh.

"Well, History is a bore. The teacher -Binns- has been dead for over a decade and he's stuck droning on and on the same soporific lessons. So you'll have to study from your books independently, because chances are that you won't be able to stay awake in class. About Charms, ..."

Harry listens quietly as the Prefect and a couple of older students list the various lessons. It's kind of infuriating, to learn that some classes, like History are basically useless, but Harry doesn't care much. Muggle school was like that too; boring teachers on one side, classes in which the teacher couldn't keep the students focused on the other. Harry prefers to study by himself anyway; it's hard to concentrate in a class of twenty kids with short-attention span, when he can hear them think and whine to themselves.

The rest of diner passes quickly enough. Harry silently thanks whoever decided that wizards should have a natural mind barrier, flimsy as it is, because spending hours in this huge hall with hundreds of students chatting around him is tiring enough, without hearing their thoughts too.

Padma sticks to him when they finally leave. Harry doesn't mind too much, since she's a quiet girl. Well, it's not as if the other kids were too noisy now anyway. After a long train ride and a hearty diner, most of the children are drooping, Harry included. He still notices the many moving paintings and corridors, worrying a bit about what a maze the castle must be. They will need to stay in groups for the first month at least, he muses.

"This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower," the Prefect announces finally, after they walked up several stories and finally up a tight spiral staircase, in one of the castle's tower. "To enter, you'll need to answer a logique riddle the knocker will ask you. So better brush up your common knowledge, since most of the riddles will have basis in magical culture or theory, if you don't want to have to wait for another student to come up."

Not very muggle-born friendly. Harry shakes his head, but doesn't comment. After all, any muggle-born sorted here would be researching wizarding culture first thing, anyway.

The dormitories are a bit less impressive than the rest of the school. Boys and girls are separated and unable to get into each others dorms. The rooms themselves aren't too large, two beds with wardrobes and two desks, with a bathroom adjacent. The rooms are set in circles around a central hallway in a which a large spiral staircase rises.

"There is one year per floor. You'll stay in the same room for the rest of your seven years at Hogwarts, so don't make an enemy of your roomate. This year, the First years are on the fourth floor; you're taking last year's Seventh year's rooms."

By the time they make it to the fourth landing, Harry is more than ready to get a moment of quiet, even if he has to share a room with another boy. He's been pushed and bumped into one too many time in this Merlin damned spiral staircase and he feels like he's going to wandlessly hex the next person who trips him.  
"Here we are," the Perfect says with a sigh. Everyone is eager to finally get settled and that's the only reason why Harry keeps his calm. "Your names are on the doors and your things already inside. Get settled, get some sleep. The alarm will wake you up tomorrow morning. Don't waste too much time in the bathroom this time, I'll be waiting for you downstairs, to show you around."

Harry's already halfway in his dorm before the Prefect is finished, eyeing the other boy who joins him.

"Stephen Cornfoot," the boy announces quietly with a small informal bow. "Do you prefer the left or right side of the room?"

"Harry Potter, nice to meet you. Left, if it's all right."

"Sure, no problem. Goodnight."

Harry snorts at this impressive conversation, but doesn't comment. He's too tired to chat, if it was even an inclination of his. "Yes, goodnight." He checks out his trunk -everything's still packed where he left it, apparently-, changes into pajamas and finally lies down on the bed with a huge yawn. He's too worn out to be excited, but the next day will probably be full of interesting things, he thinks to himself.

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_There it is \o/ :) I'm not too happy with this chapter, but I decided to let it go and publish it as it is. Let's hope that the next chapter will be easier to write ;)_

_Also, just a note, for those who wish to follow my writing progress: I have a twitter account ana_nyssia. However I write half in French, half in English over there, and not only about my writing progress. Is anyone interested in me creating a fic/writing-only twitter account? It wouldn't be difficult to manage, since I use TweetDeck, so it's a possibility :D_

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**WARNING: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!**

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_In answer to this review, since it's a guest and I can't just reply to him or her:_

_Not bad but a few point one reading someone mind is wrong controlling it is evil, Two you did the potter are a accent house there not they are a nobody important house. That was the point of it, and. Harry coment about Ron. He did not know where to go in a place he never been. Harry did not know either. So Harry a jerk , you did not do it yet but I look like a Ron bashing story.  
_

_- I hadn't mentioned this before because I was still working out the kinks in this plot (and I'm still thinking about some points): this is gray or dark!Harry story. Probably more gray since I won't concentrate on torture and attacks but more on politics. So, yes, controlling people's minds is evil. Well caught: Harry will be using is gift in decidedly non-innocent ways. I'm still uncertain on how I'll work it out, but I'm pretty sure that he will work with Voldemort somehow (but not in an optique to kill/torture all)._

_- Not sure about what you meant in the second point, since it wasn't exactly clear English, but yes, in my story, the Potters were aristocracy, like the Malfoys and others. I never said I'd follow canon ;)_

_- Harry's a jerk: definitively! Or rather, he's very selfish. But well, when you grow up in a house where nobody cares about you, borderline abused, I don't think you become especially gentle/good at sharing._

_- Ron Bashing: not exactly. I think Ron is rude and a mindless bore, but in this story, it's more about the fact that Harry has a very clear idea of where in politics the Potters will stand. And in this case, it won't be anywhere near Dumbledore, and by extension, the Weasleys. Regarding Harry's comments, he doesn't know Ron and just sees a kid who doesn't know anything about Hogwarts, despite being raised in the wizarding world. Yep, he definitively feels contempt for said kid, since Harry's dream has always been to live with his own/know everything about wizards._


End file.
